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The first thing Ted notices is Rebecca coming out of the coaches’ office one morning; he himself is just showing up, a few minutes behind schedule. Beard is sitting in there, nose in a book like usual. He’s gotten real into Elena Ferrante this month.
“Hey there, boss!” Ted says cheerfully as they meet in the office doorway. “You lookin’ for me?”
“I wasn’t,” says Rebecca. “But it’s lovely to see you all the same.”
“Aw, now. You sure know how to make a guy blush. You have a good one.”
Rebecca gives him one of those slight little smiles he really digs. “You too.”
Ted goes into the office and asks Beard, “What’s up with the boss dropping by?”
“No reason,” says Beard. “Just saying hi.”
“Oh, come on, you can tell me. You guys starting a book club or something?”
Beard’s expression darkens. Most people wouldn’t clock it, but Ted does. “I don’t do book clubs.”
“That’s right,” Ted says apologetically.
“The relationship between a man and his book, that’s personal.”
“I know it.” Ted settles down at his desk, and wonders if they’re planning him a surprise party.
+
A week goes by. There’s no surprise party. That’s fair; it’s not his birthday or anything. But then one bright Monday morn, Ted goes into Rebecca’s office, biscuits in hand, to find Beard in there already, sitting in Ted’s traditional seat.
Rebecca spots Ted. In extra formal tones, she says, “Thank you, Coach Beard. That’s very helpful.”
Beard turns around. His eyes widen.
“Theodore,” he says formally.
“Beardstopher,” Ted returns in the same style.
Beard excuses himself.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him in here before,” Ted says after he’s gone. “He kinda clashes with the decor, huh? Two very different vibes happening there.”
Rebecca lets out an amused huff. “I’ll make sure to redecorate before next time.”
Ted chuckles.
Then he pauses.
Next time?
+
Ted really takes a moment to consider whether he’s hallucinating when he sees Beard and Rebecca together at the Crown and Anchor a few nights later.
But nope, it’s real. He blinks about five times before he accepts that, yep, that’s Beard and Rebecca, hanging out together at a table in the corner. No one else around.
“You can do this,” Rebecca is saying, in those softer tones she uses when she cares about you more than seeming strong.
“I can’t,” says Beard.
“You can.”
“I really can’t.”
“Do you want me to do it? Because I can.”
“No. It’s my responsibility. I’ll do it.”
When Ted was in eighth grade, he had a near-fatal crush on Lindsay McMaster, who was the Sutton Foster of the local junior high drama scene. His drama club buddy Ryan Pinto liked her too, and wound up being the one to go to the winter dance with her even after Ryan and Lindsay had tried real hard to fight their newly pubescent passion for Ted’s sake. It damn near killed Ted. His and Ry Guy’s after-school improv sessions were never the same. He doesn’t know why he’s thinking of that right now.
“Beard and the Boss!” he calls out, making himself smile.
They both jump in surprise. That right there’s a weird reaction to being spotted having a drink with a friend.
Rebecca’s eyes still brighten as she exclaims, “Ted!” in greeting. But she definitely seems on edge. Or maybe just disappointed to be interrupted.
“Beardstopher,” Beard greets him.
“Theodore,” answers Ted.
They nod somberly at each other.
“Has anyone ever told you you two are a pair of fucking weirdos?” Rebecca inquires politely.
“Never,” says Beard.
“I believe you’re the first,” agrees Ted.
Rebecca laughs. “What will you have, Ted? I’m buying.”
“A Coke would be great, thanks.”
“You got it.”
Rebecca squeezes Beard’s hand before getting up. Ted wishes he hadn’t noticed.
+
“Who you texting there, buddy?” Ted asks one afternoon when they’re standing out on the pitch for practice. Beard’s not a texter during practice under usual circumstances. So to follow that logic, that means these circumstances are unusual.
Hmm.
“No one,” says Beard.
Ted doesn’t try to look at his screen. It would be a massive violation of privacy.
Unfortunately, he accidentally loses control of his eyes as he walks past Beard, the better to yell inspirational stuff at the team from a slightly different vantage point. He sees “Rebecca Welton” at the top of the screen before Beard switches over to his Duolingo app. (His Finnish is getting pretty outstanding. He can ask for an apple like a native speaker. Ted assumes.)
“Whatcha texting no one about?”
“Book club.”
This will not STAND, says a real Led Tasso-y voice in Ted’s head.
+
The next week, Ted asks Rebecca to grab coffee with him after work. They don’t usually hang out outside of the club, but the thing with Beard is burning a hole in his brain and he’s learned from recent experience that you gotta get this stuff out before it sets everybody in the vicinity on fire.
Rebecca accepts, looking pleased. She’s wearing a rose pink blouse and looks like some sort of Valentine’s Day goddess, even though it’s fall. As a matter of principle, Ted tries not to think too much about Rebecca’s looks, but sometimes it’s a real challenge.
They go to a cozy spot a short walk from the club. Ted orders a peppermint mocha and pays for Rebecca’s Earl Grey. They sit down opposite each other at a small round table, Rebecca plopping her giant purse onto the chair between them.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Rebecca asks as she takes off her coat. Attack of the pink blouse, part two. She looks all glowy around the edges, her lips curving in a sweet smile, and Ted feels like someone who’s suddenly in a real HR pickle.
This can’t be happening. Not again. No one deserves to get Lindsay McMaster’d twice.
“The, uh–” Ted sips his drink, and hopes it didn’t leave a foam mustache on his real mustache. “The Beard situation.”
“Oh,” Rebecca says. Her glow dims.
“I noticed you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
“I suppose we have been,” Rebecca agrees archly.
“Are you, uh, datin’ or something? Because that’s cool. I think that’s really neat. My two best friends, an item? Get outta town. It’ll be way easier to hang out with both of you at once. Mark me down as the number one Rebeardca fan. Although maybe that wasn’t the best name mash-up. Belton, like Beard and Welton? That’s kinda fun. Makes you think of Adele really smashing a high note–”
“Ted, you absolute numpty,” Rebecca interrupts impatiently.
Ted blinks. “Come again?”
“Come here,” Rebecca orders. She comes at him with a napkin she pulls from the dispenser on the table.
Ah. So there was a foam-mustache situation.
While she wipes his mustache, and he tries not to feel keenly aware of it, she says, “I’ve been helping Beard to stop himself from going back to Jane.”
Ted feels the full weight of that new information. “Ah.”
She lets go of his chin, leaning back into her chair. “I thought she was harmless at first, and they were just a little Wuthering Heights together, but it’s become obvious that that’s not a healthy situation. But knowing something isn’t enough, sometimes, to disentangle you from somebody. It’s really hard. Really, really hard.”
Ted thinks of Michelle. Only the forty-fifth time today; he’s improving. “No, I know.”
Rebecca sighs. “I know you do. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been getting that feeling off Bane too,” Ted admits. “But I figured it was one of those things that you have to figure out on your own. You don’t want your friends butting in unasked and judging your romantic situation.”
“‘On your own’ always sounds so good in theory,” says Rebecca. “But sometimes we do need each other, loath as I am to admit it, and I think this is one of those times. Poor Beard. I think Nathan’s departure really bothered him.”
“Who didn’t it bother?”
“I know.” Rebecca gives him a sympathetic look. “My point is, I think something about the Nate situation – all the bad emotions there – made it clear his situation with Jane was untenable. And as the poster girl for untenable romantic situations, well, who better to reluctantly ask for advice?”
“Boy, I feel like a putz.” And yet, like he’s possessed by some double-checking demon, Ted says, “So you don’t, uh, fancy the pants off him, then?”
“No, I do not fancy the pants off Coach Beard,” Rebecca says, each word very clipped.
Ted clicks his tongue. “Got it.”
“I have been trying to find someone to set him up with, but his … essence is so specific, I don’t know where to begin.”
Ted ponders it for a second. “You know what, I could see him really hittin’ it off with your mom, actually.”
Rebecca lets out a loud bark of laughter that makes everyone else in the room look their way.
“Fuck you,” she says merrily.
Ted grins. “That sounds like a your-momma joke, but I’m just bein’ serious.”
“I know, I get what you mean. I see it too. Let’s never speak of it again. I'm not ready for a stepfather.”
“Deal.” Ted nods down at her cup. “How’s your cuppa?”
“It’s perfect,” Rebecca says. She takes another sip, then lets out a small hum of bliss.
“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”
Rebecca smiles at him. Ted is really starting to wish she didn’t look so dreamy in that pink blouse. But at the same time, who is he to will something that lovely out of the universe? Much in the style of a Baldwin-Streep-Martin love triangle, it’s complicated.
“What are you thinking about?” Rebecca asks.
“The esteemed filmography of Nancy Meyers,” says Ted.
+
He gets a text from Rebecca that night, right after he’s finished putting her biscuits into the box. Talk about timing.
For the record, it reads, if I was going to date one of our coaches–which I really shouldn’t, since it would be a huge kerfuffle–it wouldn’t be Beard.
Ted suddenly feels his heartbeat in his ears. In kind of a nice way though, for a change. Like the distant sound of waves on a beautiful beach, sung to you by a shell.
I don’t think Roy’s gonna be on the market anytime soon, he texts back. He and Keeley are 🤞💖🤞💖 .
Agreed, Rebecca texts back right away. He watches the three dots dance, wondering what the heck might await him next, and then gets, Night, Ted. 💜
Ted writes back, Night, Rebecca.
And then, wondering if there’s some difference between a purple heart and a pink one, if this could count as a step forward, if she’d like knowing how she put hearts into his eyeballs just by wearing pink today, he adds, 💗.
+
Ted can’t sleep so well after that.
Diamond Dogs emergency meeting? he texts Beard when 1 AM hits.
ow ow owwwwwww, Beard texts back. Then for clarification, a few seconds later: (howling.)
Ted grabs his favorite pillow and heads over.
+
Ted doesn’t feel so bad about keeping the membership low for this particular meeting. Roy’s curled up with Keeley sound asleep, no doubt, and Higgins is so Team Rebecca that Ted wouldn’t want to put him in an uncomfortable position.
Besides, Roy and Higgins would have trouble fitting on Beard’s mattress. But for Ted and Beard, it’s just about right.
“Do I have a crush on the boss?” Ted asks, staring at the ceiling.
“Springsteen or Welton? Either way, yes.”
Ted shakes his head. “I really set myself up for that.”
“The joke or the crush?”
“Oof. Now that’s a good question.”
Beard finally takes off his sleep mask. He’d answered the door in it and everything. “There’s three things you need to consider when it comes to love: right time, right place, right circumstance.”
“What’s that, Rumi?”
“Technically we’re neighbors.”
“A ha ha ha.” Ted points at him. “Nice one.”
“It’s from Ticket to Paradise with George Clooney and Julia Roberts.”
“No kidding.”
“I saw it on a date,” Beard adds casually.
“A date!” Ted beams. “How was it?”
“Boring,” says Beard. “We decided not to do it again. It was incredible.”
“That’s the spirit! I’m happy for ya, buddy.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what do those words of Clooney-Roberts wisdom mean?”
Beard says it in a way where Ted can tell he’s interpreting. “Are you ready?”
Ted lets out a long breath. “Sheesh, I don’t know. Is she?”
Beard gives him a tiny, barely perceptible nod.
It’s hard to imagine Rebecca doing things that tell Beard, who’s fluent in that rare language of noticing everything, that she likes Ted. That he’s something she might want.
“I’m still so used to the idea of the future looking like Michelle,” he admits.
“To me, it looks more like Jane.”
“Huh.”
“That doesn’t mean that’s the only option. It’s our habits that change how we feel. Make room for change, and it’ll come.”
“Rebecca teach you that?”
“More or less. There were more fucks in her version.”
Ted smiles. “She’s a smart cookie.”
“How does it make you feel to think of the future looking like her?”
Ted considers it. “Excited,” he says honestly. “Lucky.”
“There you go,” says Beard.
“Hey, Coach.”
“Yeah, Coach?”
“Do you think it’s really a good idea to get involved with the owner of our football team? Logistics-wise, I mean.”
“I think you know what you feel,” says Beard, “and that’s a good start.”
And when it’s put like that, Ted supposes he does. He’s almost never seen Rebecca and felt anything besides good about it. Maybe nervous sometimes, especially when all his panic attack stuff started rearing its inescapable head. He never deleted her voicemail from his phone, even though he’d met her the next morning with a smiling thank you and a lie about food poisoning. He likes the thought of it sitting there on his phone, proof. Proof of what, he never really stopped to think about before.
“This love stuff,” Ted says. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”
“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”
Ted looks at him, impressed.
“That’s Rumi,” Beard adds, finally meeting his eyes.
“Wow, that’s good. Somebody should write that down.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Can I say something real cheesy?”
“Better than a non-dairy alternative.”
“I’m glad you’re on this path to healing, and treating yourself right. You deserve it.”
“Right back at you.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when I shoulda been.”
“You can’t be everything to everybody.”
“I know. I hate that.”
Beard pats his shoulder.
“If we have us a little sleepover so I don’t have to go back to my place,” Ted says, “do you think it’ll cause a scandal in the papers?”
“God, I hope so,” says Beard. Within thirty seconds, he’s snoring.
Ted smiles, looks at the text from Rebecca on his phone one more time, and lets himself drift off too.
+
“You look well rested today,” Rebecca remarks, taking the biscuit box from Ted’s hand. Their fingers brush.
“I had a sleepover at Beard’s.”
“Like, on his sofa?”
“Nah, we shared the bed.”
“That’s strangely adorable. Don’t let the paparazzi get a whiff of it.”
“That’s what I said!” Ted says, delighted.
“Great minds.” Rebecca taps her temple.
They talk business for a while. The game’s still afoot, after all (afoot, football; that’s kinda funny), and they’ve got Rupert to demolish. But when he’s about to leave, Ted decides that if Beard can be brave, and Rebecca can too, well, hey, why can’t he?
“Rebecca?” he says, pausing at the door.
“Hmm?”
“We’ve both been through a lot these past few years, and it’s scary as hell, putting yourself back out there again.” He clears his throat. “So there’s no rush. I mean that. But whenever you’re ready, I’ll be ready too.”
Her lips part slightly, her face sweetly stricken.
“You just holler, okay?”
“Okay,” she says. Her eyes are shining.
He turns and walks away, hands in his pockets, a good feeling seeping through him like the first bite of a favorite food, or the first breath of fresh air stepping out onto the pitch, or the first note Rebecca sings on those rare occasions when she’s up for blessing a crowd with that voice. He feels at home in his body. Maybe even in his soul. It don’t get much better than that.
+
Ted decides to throw an American Thanksgiving style dinner party on the third Thursday in November. Sure, Thanksgiving doesn’t exactly have an origin story worth celebrating, but he likes the idea of a big party with a lot of food, and Henry’s coming for Christmas, which means he’ll be in Dad mode instead of Party Host mode by then. Besides, it’s healthy every once in a while to undertake a big culinary project that reminds you your favorite food staples aren’t universally available. Keeps you humble. (Still, he’s a little worried that the supermarkets here won’t come through for him with jellied Ocean Spray cranberry sauce. They’ve got a version called “smooth,” and while it looks the same, he can’t quite trust it enough to try it.)
He invites everybody at Richmond back to his place, along with the warning that it might be a standing room only situation. He spends the next fortnight borrowing chairs from everyone he can, and his flat starts lookin’ like the domain of a hoarder with a very specific penchant, i.e. putting their butt down on as many surfaces as possible.
He even gives the Doc a call – they check in every once in a while, but he hasn’t seen her in months – and to his delighted surprise, she accepts the invitation. He makes a note to put some West Side Story on the party playlist for her.
He and Beard have done most of their adult Thanksgivings together, and they’ve got a cooking routine that they plan to bust out yet again. Beard’s the only person Ted’s ever met who can read and peel potatoes at the same time, or who’d even think to try.
Rebecca calls the day before, asking what she can bring.
“Just your awesome self,” Ted says, popping her on speaker phone.
“No, no. None of that selfless host shit. I want to be useful.”
“You could always bake us some pies,” Ted suggests, for his own amusement.
There’s a long pause. “What if I just gave everyone a hundred pounds?”
“Sure, yep, I’m sure everyone would love that. Or you could pick up some pies.”
“Right,” Rebecca says. “Picking up pies. I can do that.”
“You’re the best,” Ted says, and hangs up. “She sounds kinda jittery, doesn’t she? What’s that about?”
“She wants you to liiike her,” Beard intones.
“Oh, come on, now,” Ted says, trying not to smile. It’s just not right to look too happy basting a turkey.
+
The party’s a great time. It’s funny: everyone here sees each other almost every day, but there’s still a whole lot of joy in the air to all be together in a different place. Ted does feel a pang looking around, expecting to see Nate in the crowd and then remembering. But with this many of his favorite people around, it’s hard to be sad for long. The squirming guilt that accompanies the sadness, well, that’s a whole other matter, but it’ll keep.
Sharon shows up after a bunch of the players have already gotten there, and there’s a collective cheer of joy at the sight of her. She’s mild-mannered as ever, but Ted can tell she’s feeling the love. When “Tonight” starts playing over the bluetooth speaker, she catches his eye across the room and smiles.
Ted smiles back from where he’s helping Keeley and Rebecca arrange the table with everybody’s food contributions. (There’s a real un-Thanksgiving-y range of options. Jamie, looking pretty proud about it, brought a three-foot-tall croquembouche. Colin brought a giant bag of ketchup-flavored Cheetos.)
“I still can’t believe you gave Dr. Sharon that bottled water gift basket,” Keeley mutters to Rebecca as she pours the ketchup Cheetos in a bowl.
“She ate my biscuits,” Rebecca says petulantly.
“Babes. Wasn’t it like one bite out of one?”
“Still. It’s the principle.”
There’s something about that that Ted can’t help but enjoy. All the same, Rebecca greets Sharon with real warmth when they exchange their hellos.
He feels a little unsettled later on when he watches Rebecca and Sam chat for a bit, but there seems to be a lot of good will left between them and not much else. The last Ted heard, Sam was striking up something with one of the women working at his new restaurant, and if it bugs Rebecca, she doesn’t show it.
The thought that it doesn’t bug Rebecca because she’s got Ted is still somehow too surreal to entirely hold in his brain.
+
Finally, everybody sits down to eat, either finding a spot at the table (“Oi! Mind the croquembouche!” Jamie keeps shouting) or grabbing a random chair and making do with their laps. Sharon, one of the lucky table-dwellers, catches Beard’s copy of Michael Pollan’s How to Change Your Mind when it gets knocked off the table by Jamie, who’s getting zealous in his cake-ball tower defense.
“Whose Michael Pollan?” she asks, waving the book in the air.
“That would be mine,” Beard says, popping up from where he’d taken a seat in the corner.
“It’s an interesting read, for pop science. It would be a shame to have it trampled all over before you got to finish it.”
“The real shame would be a book getting in the way of the safety of this masterpiece,” Jamie declares.
“Enough about the fucking croquembouche,” barks Roy.
“You’re just jealous you brought a souffle,” Jamie retorts. “Basic.”
Roy growls. “My niece made that souffle–”
“Now, gentlemen,” says Sharon, which is enough to diffuse the tension. There’s a reason they pay her the big bucks. She turns back to Beard, handing him his book. “Here you are, Coach Beard.”
“Thank you, Doctor Fieldstone,” says Beard, with the energy of a maiden recently rescued from some train tracks.
Needless to say, it’s enough to set Beard and Sharon off on an animated conversation about psychedelics and therapy.
Ted starts telling Rebecca and Higgins all about Henry’s latest science project, but he gets distracted after a while by the continuing sound of Beard’s voice. He’s usually not one to talk that much in a crowd. The Doc’s really bringing him out of his shell. Apparently, Ted’s not the only one to notice. Rebecca meets his eyes over the table, her own wide with excitement.
Ted glances back down the table. Sharon is saying something boring like “Yes, but don’t you think the implications—”, but there’s a definite pleased expression on that usual poker face of hers. Beard keeps nodding like they’re panelists on Amanpour & Company.
“Ted,” Rebecca says pointedly. “Help me bring some of the backup drinks in from the car, would you?”
“I think we’re fine for drinks, actually,” says Leslie, until Rebecca silences him with a death glare. “Um. For the next five seconds, anyway, and after that, all will turn to chaos. You’d best hurry, you two.”
“Ted,” Rebecca prompts.
“I’m on it like Stede Bonnet,” Ted says, getting up. “You guys watched Our Flag Means Death yet? It’s a real treat.”
“‘S outstanding,” grunts Roy. Keeley kisses his cheek.
“I don’t watch a lot of television,” says Sharon, “except for the really insipid reality stuff sometimes, to put a finger on the pulse of our national and global neuroses.”
“God, that’s cool,” says Beard. “Have you seen Is It Cake?”
Sharon pauses to take a sip of wine. Then she says, “Obviously. And I have thoughts.”
“Yessss,” Beard mutters, pumping his fist.
+
Once they’re outside in the alleyway, Rebecca starts jumping up and down like 80s aerobics Jane Fonda. (And now Jane Fonda, come to think of it. That lady’s kept it spry.)
“Oh my God,” she says, putting her hands on Ted’s forearms. “This is perfect, Beard and Sharon. This is actually perfect.”
“You’re telling me,” Ted replies, jumping a few rounds with her. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. This must be the universe’s way of keeping me humble. Well, that and smooth cranberry sauce.”
“I didn’t know anyone could have a conversation that long and that boring about bloody psychedelic mushrooms.”
“They were really porta-bellowing on there, that’s for sure.”
Rebecca gives him one of those Your Puns Are Giving Me A Migraine looks. Man, he gets up in the morning for those.
“It really took some of the umami flavor out of the topic, didn’t it? Interesting science, but not the best subject for a party full of fun guys–”
“Jesus Christ, Ted.” Her fingernails dig into his forearms. “Have mercy, would you?”
“Rightio.” He mimes zipping his lips. Then he goes back to holding her arms, since she’s still holding his.
“They’re a couple of esoteric genius soulmates; of course the rest of us didn’t stand a chance in that conversation. Not that I’m implying you’re not a genius, of course.”
“Oh, I’m definitely not.”
“Thank God,” says Rebecca. “I’ve got no time for geniuses. So you can break through the addictive lure of screentime and actually pick up a book every once in awhile; what do you want, a medal?”
Ted chuckles.
Rebecca stares up at the window of Ted’s flat, shining with the light and warmth of the party. “I’m so pleased how this has turned out.”
“You really got invested in Beard’s situation there.”
“Of course I did. He’s one of ours. He’s your best mate. He deserves to be treated beautifully.” She lets out a little self-effacing laugh, like she’s embarrassed by her sappy word choice. But not embarrassed enough to take it back.
“Do you really have backup drinks in the car?”
“No, I just needed to steal you away.”
It hits Ted for the first time that they’re alone in the cozy dark, kissed by street lamp light, and almost in each other’s arms. He watches Rebecca realize the same thing.
“Well, consider me stolen,” he says.
Rebecca smiles – a slow, warm smile he can feel in his stomach like butterflies.
“I like the sound of that,” she declares.
“Do you?”
“I do,” she says, leaning in and–
There’s a sudden explosion of sound from upstairs. They break apart and turn to see everyone watching them from the window.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Rebecca yells at them. To Ted, she says, “We’re supposed to be the matchmakers here, not the matchmade!”
“The price of being beloved,” Ted says, and does a Princess Di wave up at the crowd. “Everybody’s rooting for ya.”
“Go back to your food, you animals!” Rebecca orders.
Everyone lets out a lot of whoohoo-ing in response. Ted notices Beard and the Doc aren’t at the window. Probably still in a mushroom/ Is It Cake? conversational frenzy. How beautiful is that?
After a minute of chaos, Keeley and Higgins take charge and start steering everyone away from the window. Keeley’s the last one in view; she salutes at them, a grin on her face, and then closes the blinds.
“She’s the real deal, that one.”
“She is,” Rebecca agrees, throwing a fond glance at the window. She wraps her arms around Ted’s shoulders. “Now, where were we?”
“I believe I was hittin’ you with some mushroom puns that were making you question your will to live.”
“Yes,” Rebecca says, laughing. “Exactly.”
“As it so happens, I psilocybin wanting to kiss you for quite some time, so this night is going really well for me–”
Rebecca kisses him firmly, laughter still on her lips. That picture of his future glows a little bit brighter.
“You had to be stopped,” she explains when they part.
“If I’m perfectly honest,” says Ted, “I had a feeling you might try that method to shut me up.”
“Diabolical, Coach Lasso. Tru-ffle.”
Ted stares blankly at her.
“Like a play on ‘Truly awful,’” Rebecca explains.
“I don’t know,” Ted says, wincing. “That one’s a stretch.”
“It is not! It works! Tru-affle.” Rebecca does a sweeping hand gesture as she says it, like it’ll make the joke land better.
“No one has ever pronounced ‘truffle’ like that, though. That’s the first step of good punning: conversational realism.”
“No, no, because it’s – what the thing?” She hits his shoulder lightly in frustration. “Like a slant rhyme. It’s close enough.”
“You know I never met a pun I didn’t like,” Ted says. “Until tonight.”
“Oh my God, you need to shut up and kiss me again immediately or I’m going to kill you,” Rebecca says, glaring and laughing all at once.
“Sure,” Ted says. “No truffle at all.”
Rebecca’s jaw drops in horror.
“See,” he murmurs into her ear, pulling her closer, “that’s how you do it.”
“You’re lucky I fancy the pants off you,” Rebecca says, and then, well, the night’s for kissing after that.
+
If the night’s for kissing, the morning after demands some music. Ted walks Rebecca to her office, to make up for the lack of biscuits. They shut the door briefly so they can kiss goodbye. On his way downstairs, he finds himself humming some “Happy Days Are Here Again.” Sometimes, you just gotta sing a song of cheer again.
He arrives in the coaches’ office to find Beard staring into his copy of Michael Pollan. Ted suspects he might not be getting much reading done, on account of it’s upside down.
“Hey, Coach,” Beard says. “Where’d you disappear off to?”
“Rebecca and I slipped out. And, uh, we kissed in the street. And everyone hooted and hollered a lot. And then we decided maybe we’d go hang out at her place for some alone time.” Beard stares blankly. “Nothing, huh?”
“I must have been distracted.”
“The Doc, she’s a great conversationalist.” Ted allows himself a smirk. “Almost like she does it for a living.”
He settles in at his desk. Normal behavior for what might just be a new-normal morning.
“Ted?”
“What's up, little pup?”
“I think I might be in a book club.”
Ted smiles and goes back to humming. After a few bars, Beard joins in with "Get Happy."